I thought I would write a sentimental or maudlin post yesterday on the 1-year anniversary of my dad's death. It turns out, I wasn't feeling maudlin, and I was enjoying shrimp and a re-make of an old movie in his honor, so I didn't feel like writing about him. That's how I roll. I can write about him at any given time I choose, or I can remember him and connect with him in the way we would have, were he alive. I can do whatever I want. Boo.
In the meantime, my fear of bugs has grown to an alarming level. At 4:15 a.m., I woke up with a start. As I am nowhere near a morning person or an early rising person, I thought, "What the hell? Why am I awake?" Approximately, 4 times in a 10-minute period, it felt like a needle had stabbed me, in the left ankle, the right ankle, the left and right elbows, until I thought, "While originally, I thought I may've established the first case of restless foot syndrome, this really hurts." I got up, went to the bathroom to confirm 5-6 bites that looked like I had just gotten shots and were very itchy. I then went into the bedroom, turned on my night table lamp, and threw back the covers.
There, staring at me with a defiant look was Monty the Ant. I have seriously never seen an ant this big. I don't do bugs, and the only ants I recall are fire ants and wood ants. This little hooligan was as big as my pinky fingernail with a little actual hair. He looked at me as if to challenge my authority, and I scooped him up in toilet paper, but left the sample on the counter so I could show Smitty, since he did NOT wake up, so he could I identify if I were going to die from some rare Alabama ant disease.
This morning before I got into the shower, I unfolded my little friend, and there he was, all squished up, presumably dead. After I got out of the shower, I checked the Kleenex so I could show Smitty, and he had vanished. I looked all over the bathroom, as this was an injured ant with what I presume to be very little pep and vigor...no where to be found. Great. Smitty informs me had I crushed his thorax, he would have died and never made a break for it. I called him a nerd and told him to shut up.
So, for the day, I've been feeling twitchy hairs escaping from my hair, which is way overdue for a haircut and twinges and twitches from nothing at all, although I imagined Monty having curled up in my hairbrush and waiting for his time to shine. Logically, I'm sure he went down the drain or something rational to find water, but I am literally afraid to go to bed, because I feel, even though insects have tiny little brains, if you try to kill them, or they have previously attacked you, they will come back....like the bad guys in a Steven Seagal movie. And Smitty is out of town, which is perfect, because the damn ant didn't bother him....and now they can feast on their real target...
If I set Lysol around the bed, like a shrine, will that do anything? Or do ants get confused when you touch their little path, what if I literally draw a finger line around the bed? Seriously, bugs are my worst fear, and due to my lovely allergies, I'm itchy anyway so it's hard to distinguish the pyscho-somatic itching and the real thing. Do ants carry any lethal diseases??
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